


... Remains in the Night

by escritoireazul



Series: The Protector Series [8]
Category: Lost Boys (1987)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-03-05
Updated: 2001-03-04
Packaged: 2017-10-16 03:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/167775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escritoireazul/pseuds/escritoireazul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Humans can be killers too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Somebody told me once in a lifetime  
Destiny finds you and blows you away  
Spins you in circles pulls you in pieces  
Bleeds you like Jesus and goes on its way  
But it's oh so simple sometimes  
Just to let your heart open wide  
If you want to get to heaven then you gotta take a ride_

_Love lift me wherever you are  
Convince me I'm safe in your arms  
Love lift me make sense of it all  
Teach me to fly and don't let me fall_  
"Love Lift Me" – Amanda Marshall

"You're sure you want to do this?" Dwayne reached out, brushing his fingers down Anna's cheek in a long, slow caress that reached from the faint blonde fuzz at her hairline to the hard sweep of her jaw.

"I'm tired of having secrets," Anna lifted her hand to capture his, trapping him within her slender fingers. "I'm tired of being afraid; I trust you to know what I was like…before."

"Nothing you could have done as a mortal would make me stop loving you, wanting you," Dwayne promised her, twisting his hand until he could slip his fingers in between hers, taking the power from her, but not forcing the touch.

"You can't promise me that," she whispered, ducking her head so that her curls fell as a curtain over her face. As of late her thoughts had been predominantly filled with images from her past…a speckled array of darkness that left her breathless at times, unable to understand why she had survived long enough to reach Santa Carla.

"I can, and I do," Dwayne argued, lifting her hand to his chest, where he cradled it as a hope-driven child would cradle a dying bird. "I am a vampire; nothing you have done hasn't been done by one of our kind before. Beyond that, I love you, and whatever you did is a part of what I love."

"You're asking for it," Anna muttered, but she shook her hair out of her face, baring her shining blue eyes to his steady, fathomless gaze. She had to break eye contact first; Dwayne's way of remaining silent as he watched her never failed to batter down whatever barriers she tried to erect. "Come on, we'll go and I'll tell you a story."

"A bedtime story?" he teased as she led him through the main room of the cave. Adam and Victoria waved to Anna, but she merely flipped her fingers in their direction, too intent on spilling everything to Dwayne to let even her precious werewolves distract her now.

They ignored their bikes, parked enticingly near the entrance to the cave, hidden from view in the trees that ran up along the side of the cliff, and instead took to the air, their hands still entwined as they sped through the darkness, leaving twisting strands of disturbed fog in their wake.

As they had bikes, so too did they avoid the Boardwalk, bypassing its raging lights and heady blood-scent for the relative peace of the wharf, where fewer miscreants threatened their privacy. A bench at the very end of the wooden structure offered an unimpeded view of the ocean as well as the star-sprinkled night sky.

"This is as good a place as any," Anna murmured as she dropped down on one end of the bench. Dwayne settled himself next to her, situated his arm along the hard back so that she could lean against him, and waited for her to speak, knowing instinctively that she needed to be the one to proceed. "And the best place to begin is…well, the beginning, at least of that part of my life."

She tilted her head back until her eyes were filled with the faint white light of a million stars, all shining just to provide background lighting as she wove this tale of pain and fear. Dwayne leaned forward, resting his chin on her shoulder, his steady gaze fixed on her throat, a move that comforted her, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why.

"When I ran, I headed for New York City. As surprising as it may seem, nothing of importance happened the first time I visited. The second…" Anna's voice trailed off; after a moment, she shook her head to drive away the disturbing thoughts. "But that's for later. I spent a great amount of time exhausted, because I couldn't sleep, and drunk, because that's all I wanted do. The first city I remember clearly, can really picture in my mind, is St. Louis. It's tiny, compared to some of the places I went, but it was filled with bars; they were small, out of the way places, perfect for getting lost in. And lost was what I wanted; what I got was more than I ever imagined…"

~~**~**~~

 _Lost inside this angel town  
Lost like I could not be found  
No connections of the heart  
Love was glass that broke apart  
Gimme faith in dreams  
And someone to hold  
Gimme love 'cause I'm out here in the cold  
There are no secrets  
No angels at my door_

 _And oh, when you touch my hand  
I fall from grace  
And oh, when you reach for me  
I fall from grace_  
"Fall From Grace" – Amanda Marshall

Mississippi Nights hosted a live band each weekend and for all major holidays. More local dive than prospering nightclub, the alcohol selection was large, the tables were set in darkness, and no one paid attention to anyone else…just like Anna wanted it.

She was a year on her own, a year of running and crying and feeling her past press down upon her head like a large, metal plate intent on ramming her into the ground. A hair cut, dye job, and twenty pounds weight added to her frame because of the copious amounts of alcohol she took in each night helped her to feel free from the Valentino background she struggled to escape, but no physical changes would drive away the remaining terror of being associated with the betrayals that speckled her short life.

Perhaps a mental change was in order.

Anna settled herself at her usual table, her typical drink—a rum and coke, double shot of rum—clutched in one hand. The bartender didn't even wait for her to reach the wooden bar running along the back half of the room before he made her drink; she'd somehow become a regular over the past few weeks, a dangerous accomplishment indeed. She allowed that thought to roll around in her head for less than a moment before she flung her hand up and chugged half the glass, sending her latest worry deep into the muck that she delegated all serious matters to.

"Let them track me down through here," she muttered into her drink. "I'll show them…." Talking and swallowing were not activities that went well together, however, and she choked, gagging on the dark liquid. She slammed the glass down against the table with one hand, pressing the other tightly to her mouth as she tried to hold back the torrent of regurgitated alcohol that threatened to spew forth onto any who ventured too near.

As oxygen began to flood her body again, Anna grew aware of the fact that someone was patting her back with slow, gentle strokes. She launched herself from her chair, sending it—and herself, almost, for the alcohol she'd already drank was thickening her sense of balance—skittering across the floor as she whirled to face her opponent, a knife bare in her right hand.

"Are you ok?" The man ignored the gleam of lights off of the wicked looking blade; instead he held both hands out in front of his body, palms up, to reveal that he himself had no weapons. "I wasn't sure if you were going to start breathing there."

Anna cocked her head to one side, her bright blue eyes, now hidden behind gray contacts, perusing the figure standing before her. He was older, mid-thirties at the very least, with short-cropped brown hair the color of mud after a heavy rain, and big, matching brown eyes that reminded her of nothing more than those of an old dog who knows his time has come.

The last thing he looked was dangerous.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied after a moment, tucking the knife back into its sheath with slow movements that belied her reluctance. "Thank you…I think." He opened his mouth, presumably to tell her no thanks was needed, but her next words burst out before he could draw breath. "Don't you know it's stupid to sneak up on someone like that, to just touch someone when they don't know you're there, or who you are? I could be some psycho who would slit your throat rather than look at you, for all you know…"

She stopped when one of his eyebrows lifted and his gaze shifted to where the knife had disappeared to; no malice filled his eyes, only a pointed suggestion that perhaps he knew exactly what he was doing. Anna pressed her lips together, and then lashed one hand out to retrieve her chair.

"Thank you." The words were safe and so she repeated them as she settled back at the edge of the table. One hand lifted her drink back to her lips as the other massaged her neck, trying to reach the tender muscles inside.

"No problem." Without being asked to join her, the man grabbed the other chair, turned it backward so he could straddle it, and then sat, resting his chin on the tall back, his skin almost as dark as the wood.

Silence stretched between them, thick and unsteady, until Anna set the glass back down on the table, laced her fingers together in her lap, and began to return his unwavering gaze. When at last his attention grew to be too much for her to deal with, she lowered her eyes, focusing them on the table, and spoke.

"What?"

"You look like you need something to do." She'd expected him to tell her she needed a friend and that he was just such a thing; he'd then try to "comfort" her with touches as gentle as he could make them and whisper promises of safety and caring. She'd seen that type before; had sent many home with bruises and broken muscles for fucking with her while she tried to drown her sorrows.

But this man, this father figure, for he was that if nothing else, had been the first to pick up on her looming boredom. She'd barely begun to notice it herself; in the first rush of running away and changing her body into something unrecognizable, every moment had held new adventures, sour as they were. But as of late…

"A job you mean?" she drawled, draining the last of the alcohol from her glass. She dropped it back onto the table and watched as it rocked back and forth, waiting for it to fall and shatter, tossing bits of ice and broken glass onto the wood. "Do I look like a miscreant?"

"You look aimless," he corrected, reaching out to steady the moving glass. When he drew his hand back, the cup was still, resting in the center of the table like a crystal ball, elongated and filled with chips of knowledge. "You look like you're drifting from here to there with no real reason."

Anna turned to meet his eyes, but his steady gaze was still too much for her to hold; she glared down at the table, casting quick glances at him out of the corners of her eyes. She pressed her hands together in her lap, enjoying the feel of sharp nails piercing into skin, and waited.

"I…." He trailed off, rubbing one hand down his face as he searched for words that eluded him. "I don't even know if this is the right place." He glanced back at the bartender, who was busy with the latest group of dancers stealing from the wooden floor in front of the stage, and sighed. "I need someone to knock some sense into my daughter."

Anna's eyebrows shot up her forehead; the expression was gone after a moment, but the rush of shock was slower to fade. He hadn't come out and said it, as such, but he wanted to hire her, as if she were muscle to be bought and sold, no better than an animal…

"I don't want her seriously hurt," he rushed to add the information, reaching toward Anna with one hand; it fell back into his lap as if he'd remembered her knife and thought better of it. "But she just won't listen. She runs around with the worst crowd; hoodlums and troublemakers, the whole lot. If only she'd let me send her away to school…"

"You want someone to beat her up because she won't follow the life you're forcing her into?" Anna hadn't meant for her words to come out so…so bitter, so twisting with hatred and disgust. He blinked at her, short black lashes coming down to cover the defeat in his brown eyes, and then nodded, standing slowly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, catching his hands on the table when his foot struck the side of the chair and threatened to tip him sideways. "I didn't mean to disturb you." Anna lifted her head, watching him slide between the crowds of youngsters, his age setting him up as one not to be trusted.

The alcohol she'd drank swam within her stomach; Anna's head pounded in ways she still wasn't used to. Her wallet was almost empty; a year of spending money on whatever she wanted just to drive away the memory of the past had taken its toll on her resources.

She jumped up, knocking her chair down again, and bolted for the door, not bothering to call back harried excuses when she slammed into the other youth around her. The door slammed open before her fingers had completely touched it and she ignored the bouncer standing there, instead hurrying out onto the sidewalk.

He was there, at the end of the street, just about to cross the road into the public parking lot that no doubt held a minivan that wouldn't look complete without a sticker that said "My daughter is an Honor Student at _______" fill in the blank with the name of some highly prestigious private school that cost more for a month than she had for a year's worth of food.

"Mister," she ran, her lungs sucking in a deep breath of oxygen just so she could expel it in another cry. "Mister, wait up!" He stopped, one foot in the street, one on the sidewalk, and turned to look at her.

"Yes?"

"I'll do it." The words left before she'd completely decided that this was for the best; still, she was bored, she did need money, and hell, this was a change from her past. She stopped in front of him, sucking down oxygen as she struggled to catch her breath, and straightened her shoulders, settling them back in a proud stance. "Just give me the details."

He smiled, the expression spreading across his face as peanut butter slides across bread, sticking in places, but on the whole a smooth transition from defeat to success. He gestured to his car and she walked at his side, pacing her steps to his, listening as he began to weave the tale of his daughter's disobedience.

~~**~**~~

 _On a steel town boulevard  
Life's a promise that doesn't last  
Resurrections of the past  
Children come and are gone so fast  
So gimme faith in love  
Baby tonight  
Gimme arms to hold you here so tight  
There are no secrets  
No angels at my door_

 _And oh, when you touch my hand  
I fall from grace  
And oh, when you reach for me  
I fall from grace_  
“Fall From Grace” – Amanda Marshall

The girl was easy to find, even among the throngs of college-age and younger youths who frequented riverfront St. Louis and the multitude of clubs and bars available to them. From the man’s description, Anna picked the young woman out within the first half hour; she then spent a good two hours sitting in a corner and watching her dance, grinding her lithe body against any number of available—and probably not-so-available—boys.

Her hair was short; chin length, and a white-blonde that could have only come from a bottle. Long earrings brushed her shoulders and caught the light whenever she tossed her head, which was often. Her slender body carved intricate circles in the air as she twisted to whatever beat the DJ—only working while the band took a break—offered up to the throngs of hungry, horny teenagers, all seeking a way to lose themselves and forget about whatever problems might fester in their immature minds.

Tina, as her father had informed Anna his daughter’s name was, began to take on a personality of her own to her silent watcher. Anna did have preconceived notions of what she’d be like, all colored by her lengthy conversation with the girl’s father, but as she watched her dance, watched her twine her way around boys and girls alike, watched her never take a drink or a drag or a pill, she began to wonder just what this woman-child was made of.

Tina stumbled as she walked to the bar, catching herself on the edge of one of the tables. She cast a small, sheepish smile to the lone woman sitting on the other side, but didn’t stop to make her apologies; her throat was tight with thirst and up ahead the bar offered sanctuary in the form of her favorite drink—bottled water.

“Evian, please,” she murmured, knowing the words were incongruous with the atmosphere of this place. Still, the bartender stocked what his customers wanted, and she and her friends drank Evian.

“Evian backward spells naïve, did you know that?”

Tina whirled, the slippery bottle dropping through her fingers, leaving a fine film of condensation wherever it touched. The young woman from the table reached out one hand to catch the water, and then offered it to Tina, a small smile quirking her lips.

“No, I didn’t,” Tina whispered, reaching out with shaking fingers to grasp her drink. She unscrewed the cap with one hand and lifted it to her mouth with the other, gulping down the cool, smooth water, letting it soothe her throat and give her a moment to gather her wits about her.

“Yeah,” the woman shrugged, tossing back her head, which caused her red hair to bounce lightly about her shoulders. “Makes me wonder why people pay money for water; it’s everywhere, you know?”

Tina’s spine tightened at the implied insult; though she was usually an easy-going girl, when her back was pressed to the wall, she could come out swinging with the best of them. “Slime passed as water,” she corrected, sniffing the air disdainfully with her delicately uplifted nose. “Same thing is used in alcohol…I don’t know how *anyone* could drink that.”

Anna dropped her eyes to the glass of rum and coke she still held in her hand, and let herself break into a quiet laugh; the sound was sharp in the ears of those who heard it and the bartender moved away, though Tina remained where she was.

“You’ve got a quick wit,” Anna admitted, downing the rest of her alcohol in one quick gulp. Tina nodded, glancing back toward the dance floor where her friends were still gathered, oblivious to her predicament.

“Thanks, I guess,” she whispered, taking another sip of her water before closing the cap tightly once more. Her brown-black eyes returned to Anna’s face and something within her loosened, easing the tension until it bled out of her limbs. “I’m Tina.”

“Angie.” Anna’s lie slid past her perfect lips without the slightest tremor of body or voice; she hadn’t chosen a name up until that moment, but it worked well in her mind and tasted right within her mouth, so who was she to complain?

“Well, Angie, I’d probably better get back to my friends,” Tina jerked her head toward the others, who were pressing ever closer to the raised stage, stretching out their hands to reach whatever local superstar graced the wooden floor.

“Yeah, go on then,” Anna nodded and dismissed her by turning back to the bar, waving for the bartender to refill her drink. Tina hesitated, grasping the water bottle in both hands, and then backed away, waiting for the young woman to turn back and say something, anything…silence followed her retreat.

Anna’s perusal of Tina had to take an even less obvious route now that the girl knew who she was, relatively; she kept glancing back into Anna’s secluded corner, and was about to drive her crazy.

Something nudged the corners of Anna’s mind, worming its way through the dark plans of pain and mayhem that she kept at the front of her consciousness. Something about the girl called to her, begging for release, and she struggled to remain on track for this job.

Tina was the first of her friends to leave; she swept from the bar in a flurry of soft-yelled good-byes and a few gently given hugs to choice people. She cast one glance back in the shadowed corner that that woman, Angie, had filled, but it had been empty for many moments now.

She slid out into the darkness, almost tripping over the wooden doorstep; no one else had wanted to leave, but she wasn’t scared of the dark. Night had always held a special place in her heart and though she knew how dangerous St. Louis was after dark, she didn’t have a worry to spare for it…

Until a tight arm wrapped around her throat, pressing muscles into her skin, and a cool hand clamped down over her mouth. Her attacker, whoever it was, dragged her backward into the shadows between buildings, and then farther down, over a street and down to the waterfront. The sound of the Mississippi River, fighting itself within the earthen confines of the riverbed, muffled the whimpering that spilled from Tina’s covered mouth.

“Don’t scream,” the voice that filled her ears was low, throaty, and far too familiar for an attacker in the night. Tina nodded, jerking her head up and down as much as she could against the hands that bound her; she was released suddenly, tumbling forward to her knees on the concrete.

“Who are you?” she gasped out, one hand pressed to her throat, pressing against her bruised skin to try to ease the pain there. The other shoved against the ground and she stood, turning slowly to face the perpetrator. “Angie?”

“Tina.” Angie wiped one hand through her hair, her skin thrown into high relief by the vibrant shades of red, colors that set off her paleness to extremes. Her gray eyes caught Tina’s own, boring into them as if she could press her way inside.

“What…what do you want?” Tina dropped both hands to her sides, her fingers gripping the edges of her tight black pants. “You startled me.”

“What do I want?” Anna mused, tilting her head to the right at the slightest incline. “That’s a really grand question, Tina.” She ran one hand down her face, pressing away any facial expressions that might have given her away, or at least that’s what the movement was supposed to do. “I want to leave the past behind….”

“What past?” Tina pressed when it became clear that she wouldn’t say anything else. Anna shrugged, turning away for a brief moment, her eyes focused on the rolling brown waters of the Mississippi. The contacts were heavy within her eyes; they burned and she wished she could remove them.

“Never mind.” When she turned back to the young woman, her heart beat steadily again, whatever faint skip that had appeared in it at the sight of Tina’s dark eyes turned toward her so trustingly long gone. “I want you to start listening to your father, Tina.”

“My…father?” Tina frowned, her thin eyebrows squeezing together until it looked like there might only be one. “What are you talking about, Angie? You don’t even know my father.”

“I know him.” Anna turned away for a moment as her brain twisted and searched for a way to keep the conversation off of Tina’s father. It wouldn’t do for his name to come up too much; it might incriminate him and that’s the last thing he—and therefore she—wanted. “But that’s not the point.”

“What is?” Tina asked, wincing when her voice grew soft and trembled even over those two short words. Anna turned back around, reaching out and grabbing Tina’s shoulders with both her hands.

“You’re being stupid, Tina. Listen to what your elders want; they know what’s best for you. What you choose, your friends, your clothes…” she trailed off, freeing one hand long enough to motion vaguely toward the city around them. “This will get you hurt.”

“I like my friends,” Tina sniffed, drawing her chin up into the air, her shoulders tensing beneath Anna’s hands. Anna sighed, and then let her fingers tighten down until Tina whimpered, the sound light and bird-like beneath the thrum of humanity at the distant corners of their consciousness.

“They’re bad for you.” Anna released the young girl, stepping backward just enough to clear a space between them, one that she could punch through and cause the most damage. Her fingers twisted into fists, tight and ready to lash out, but she held her vibrating arms at her sides. “And if you don’t want to listen to me, to you father, to your elders…you will when I get done.”

“When you get done?” Tina backed up another step; one foot caught on a loose stone and she stumbled backward, her arms whirring through the air to try to stop her fall. Anna waited, her breath expelling in slow, deep movements, for the girl to catch her balance again. “What are you going to do, Angie?”

“Nothing much,” Anna muttered and drew her shoulders up her neck, gathering her strength as she tried to squash the warning signals lancing through her brain. She cocked back her right elbow, lining up the punch with unconscious skill.

Tina flung her hands up in front of her face, but she didn’t cry out. The lack of a fearful sound startled Anna and she stopped the punch, dropping her hand down to her thigh an instant before it would have hit.

It was like trying to fight against a thick rubber band wrapped around her wrist; every time she tried to reach out for Tina with the intent of causing her real pain, something drew her back, something invisible, but far stronger than she herself was.

“Get out of here.” Anna heard her own voice shoving advice at Tina, thrusting the words into her face as she had just struggled to plant her fist there. “Get away from your father and this town before he kills you.”

“What?” Tina let her hands slide down her body, leaving her head unprotected; it didn’t matter, for she trusted Angie now, again, and knew the young stranger wouldn’t hurt her. “Leave?”

“Yeah, leave. Get gone!” Anna turned away, dragging her hands down her face slowly, pulling the skin out of place. Her nails dug into her cheeks, leaving crescent moon cuts that filled with faint drops of blood. “Go!”

Tina reached for her, but the girl—whom she’d hoped to be her new friend—moved away with a caustic jerk. Tina knew better than to touch her again and instead turned and fled into the night, leaving Anna staring up at the murky sky and the handful of stars that crept through the smog.

“Stars,” Tina whispered, smacking her hands against her thighs as she crept up the back staircase that stopped right outside her room. “Star….” And just like that, quick as any contrived thought, she’d found her new identity. Her mind swept over the mental image of Angie’s red curls and she nodded, running her fingers through her own short hair. When it grew out, it was like that, and she’d stop cutting it and stop dying it and let it be all natural…as a Star should.


	2. Chapter 2

_Somebody told me love makes you stupid  
Makes you go crazy makes you go blind  
Comes uninvited and leaves when it wants to  
Calls you at midnight and ties up the line_

_But its oh so sweet when its right  
There's nothin better  
And you swear you won't but you might  
Gotta fumble in the dark if you wanna see the light_  
"Love Lift Me" – Amanda Marshall

Anna tilted her head up, gazing at Dwayne out of the corner of her eyes, apprehension tightening the solid muscles of her back. He had withdrawn from her shoulder five minutes into the story and hadn't touched her since.

"That was..." he shook his head and continued gazing out at the ocean where it rolled out wave after wave, as smooth as the mirrors he could no longer look into. "I didn't expect that."

Anna's head dropped and she shifted her weight until her body slid to the left, blocking him from her burning eyes. She dropped her hands over her stomach and squeezed, pushing down as if she could drive out the pain if only she utilized enough pressure.

Dwayne felt her move away; his body ached when the faint push of her body against his released him from her spell. He leaned forward, wrapping his upper body around her until he could look into her eyes. The dark blue orbs swam in a sea of tears and he reached out, a low sigh breaking his lips, to brush his fingers down her cheeks.

"It's ok, Anna," he murmured, keeping his voice low and soothing; she had the same air about her as a skittish cat about to bolt. He continued to pet her cheeks, his hands then moving down to rub her shoulders with small, slow strokes.

"But he hired me to hurt her," she barely breathed the words, and had Dwayne been a human, he would have missed them completely. As he wasn't, he simply drew her forward into his arms. Anna's face pressed to his chest, her senses encircled by the scent of him, old leather and a thin veneer of his last meal, the feel of his bare skin beneath her cheek, the warmth of the leather as it brushed against her arms, and the sound of his voice as it began to swell within him until it spilled out of his mouth in a waterfall of melodic assurances.

"You didn't," he reminded her, and then pressed his lips to the top of her head. "And even if you had...it's what you did, Anna. It never bothered you before; why is it such a problem now?"

Anna drew back until she could meet his eyes; it took all her strength to look at him and not drop her head, but this moment of confession wouldn't be complete without seeing her version of a higher power in his gaze.

"I almost helped her father do to her what my family did to me." When her words came, her voice was clear; her eyebrows lifted at the lack of tremors, but she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak. "My parents...my father twisted me and molded me into what he wanted, and look how I turned out..."

"You're wonderful," Dwayne assured her, rubbing his hands down her arms. "You've come through what looks like incredible shit and you're strong. A survivor. What you did to her was good; you saved her from her father, from herself...and you didn't hurt her."

"I don't know if I saved her," Anna burst out, throwing her hands down into her lap. "I don't know if she got away or went home and forgot everything that happened. I don't know if her father turned around and hired someone else or if he let her live her life and gave up on his idea of the perfect daughter. I don't know..."

"And that's what bothers you." Dwayne waited until her head slid up and down just once, the movement barely visible, before he continued. "You don't know what happened because it was out of your control and you hate that."

"You're not wrong," she whispered, leaning forward until her head rested on his shoulder again. "If only I knew...if only I had followed her." Dwayne slid his left hand into her hair, twisting the strands loosely around his fingers.

"Don't second guess yourself, Anna. You'll only go crazy. No one can see the consequences before they do the action in question. Hindsight is twenty-twenty and all that old-fashioned advice."

"Someone's sure pulling up folk sayings to fit the occasion," Anna rubbed her forehead back and forth against the leather coat, listening to the brush of well-worn animal hide against living—or undead—skin.

"When the shoe fits...." Anna's shout of laughter covered whatever else Dwayne might have said. He wrapped his free arm around her waist and squeezed tightly, drawing her into a hug dripping with warmth and physical comfort.

"I don't suppose this is all you wanted to tell me?" Dwayne pitched his voice so it rose at the end of his words, turning what might have been a statement into a question. Anna shook her head; her blonde curls danced as she tossed them back over her shoulders.

"Not by a long shot," she admitted, shifting her weight until she faced Dwayne, her legs flung over his lap. The leather jacket she wore cushioned her back against the hard wooden armrest as it protected her sensitive skin from the chill rising off of the ocean spreading out before them to meet the sky.

"Nothing will make me stop listening," he promised her, leaning forward to brush a strand of hair out of her eyes. She held his gaze for a moment before looking past him, her eyes focused on the glittering lights that the Boardwalk flung across the bay in their direction, though she saw none of what was before her.

"That was a turning point," Anna's voice drifted, growing so quiet that Dwayne had a hard time hearing her beneath the low crash of waves against the sturdy wooden pillars holding up the pier. "Not a life-changing one, mind you, but a turning point none-the-less. I stopped trying to forget the past...and started to not think about it anymore. There were moments when I remembered everything, of course, but at last there were just as many moments when I honestly forgot. Sometimes it happened because I ignored the thoughts until they went away...and sometimes I had no choice in where my mind turned.... Have you ever been to Wyoming?"

"No, actually," Dwayne stretched his legs out before him, resting his feet on his boot heels. From a purely aesthetic perspective, her stories were interesting, almost as much as the ones he carried deep inside...from the perspective that this was Anna, his beloved, who had experienced such things, his mind was boggled by the depth of her history as a mortal, a history he would have never imagined.

"I hadn't until I left St. Louis," she forced all her breath out in one long, sharp exhalation and pressed her fingers into her stomach. "I found things there I would have never expected. Cowboys and pigs and cattle, yes. A thousand year old feud and men who believed in the clash of steel...no."

~~**~**~~

 _As a young boy chasing dragons  
With your wooden sword so mighty,  
You're St. George or you're David  
And you always killed the beast_

 _Times change very quickly,  
And you had to grow up early,  
A house in smoking ruins and the bodies at your feet._  
"Flash of the Blade" – Iron Maiden

Cold. That was the first impression Anna had as she exited the bus, her one remaining bag slung over her shoulder. The truck was long gone, sold for alcohol money, and because it wasn't safe to drive the same vehicle for too long, just in case her family did decide to find her.

White was the second impression. Snow piled up alongside buildings so high that the top of the clumps brushed the bottom of the rooftops. Never in her albeit short life had Anna seen such a thing; vast expanses of fields stretched out at her feet, the ice-capped snow glistening as if a giant had gripped diamonds in one meaty paw and crushed them into the powder that now graced the land.

The leather coat was buttoned up to her chin, something Anna had never done before; still the wind battered against her body, seeking out her bare skin with a razor-edged chill. The snow crunched when her boots pressed against it, leaving only tiny indents in the perfect path; the sound reminded her of tiny bones snapping like sticks.

Only one thing came to mind; she couldn't restrain the words and didn't bother to try. They spilled past her lips, severing bits of chapped skin from the pale red, rushing out into the air with a burst of white condensation that threatened to blind her.

"I. Hate. Snow."

Dark brown hair brushed against her chin, straightened with harsh chemicals that made her cough when she inhaled them, but provided a welcome protection from her past. A quarter inch at her roots glinted in the weak sunlight; already her hair was growing out and within the next two weeks it would need to be redyed, though she'd only colored it a little over seven days ago.

"Then why'd you come here?" A young man laughed when her head jerked up, blue eyes darting from side to side as she tried to locate any danger to herself. "Nothing but snow in Cody this time of year."

"Closed my eyes and pointed at the map," Anna shrugged her shoulders, shifting her bag around until the crick in the side of her neck eased. She allowed herself a moment to simply look at the stranger, because he was returning her perusal glance for glance.

Dark hair tumbled down over his forehead, but was buzzed short in the back, so short she could almost see his scalp. Deep black eyes swept over her body, slanting down at the corners just enough to be visible under detailed observation. The downward curve was more noticeable on his right eye; a long, white scar, smooth at the edges, traced diagonally across his face, cutting just under his right eye, piercing through the bottom of his pug nose, and ending at the left corner of his small mouth. His skin, what little of it she could see, was a creamy mix between yellow and brown. The top of his head barely came up to her nose, and her boots only made their height difference more extreme.

"Well?" Her eyes shot back up to meet his when he spoke, holding both hands out to his sides at shoulder height, palms facing the gray-blue sky. Her brows creased inward, nudging toward her nose.

"Well what?" she murmured, wrapping her hands around the black strap on her bag. The feel of it beneath her fingers, slick and slightly damp from the moisture in the air, added to the sense of unreality that twisted through her thoughts.

"You've been examining me like you're going to review me later on," he laughed, dropping his arms to his sides and jamming his fingers into his pockets. "What do you think of what you see?"

Anna shook her head, keeping her lips pressed together. She wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded like he was hitting on her, not that she'd know what that was like. Her experience with the opposite sex so far had been less than inspiring.

"A quiet one, heh," he laughed again and Anna noted, almost unwillingly, that when his lips curved, his whole face seemed to light up from within. The features that might have been considered plain before, though far from ugly, took on a pleasant appearance. "I like the quiet ones. They always know what's going on around them. And you can trust them with secrets without worrying that they'll let it slip when they babble."

"Where'd the scar come from?" Anna freed her right hand to motion at his face, her fingers trailing off through the air at the end of the movement, keeping it vague and not a direct, and rude, point.

"I don't even know your name, Quiet One," he teased. "And you don't know mine. Why should I tell you something like that?"

"I'm Anne." This time the name had been chosen in advance, and Anna had the papers to prove she was who she said she was...a clever forgery that had made it past many an official in the past week. "With an e. Because three letter names just look...strange."

"Rai," he replied, gathering her right hand in his left one. His fingers were a welcome warmth against her skin. She hadn't considered the cold when she'd packed for this trip, and now wanted gloves more than anything. "Rai Woo. And I happen to like three letter names." Anna had the decency to blush, the dark color sweeping over her cheeks, though they were already pink from the chill in the air.

"Rai..." Anna tried the name out, tasting it with her tongue as her lips parted to form the word. "That's an interesting name. Does it mean anything?"

"For a quiet one, you sure do ask a lot of questions." Rai's face widened into what she was beginning to call, inside her own mind at least, his smile-for-every-occasion. "It means lightning or thunder...and trust."

"Trust? With the storm references? That's an odd combination," Anna glanced down to where their hands were still cupped together; feeling was finally returning to her fingertips, which had started to go numb as she stood out in the snow.

"You don't like storms?" Rai drew her forward slowly, keeping the pressure on her hands gentle. It was her choice to walk toward him, her decision to follow as he led her into a nearby building.

"Oh, I do. But most people wouldn't put trust in a storm," she reasoned. Only when they were inside did she realized he'd brought her into a hotel, complete with a heavy oak reception counter, though the edges of the wood were scarred with deep, white streaks. It looked as if someone had been opening beer bottles on the countertop.

"My family would," Rai nudged her toward the older woman who had just walked out from the tiny room behind the counter. She rested work-worn hands on the countertop and waited for Anna to come closer before she spoke.

"Do you need a room, Sweetheart?" Her blonde hair was teased and tormented into what might have once been called a beehive, if such things were still in fashion. Strands that looked more like wires than hair stood out all around it, and Anna had to restrain herself from asking if that was a defense system on her head.

"Yeah, one room. I don't know for how long," she replied, digging into her pocket to produce her photo ID and cash. "It's ok if I pay with this, right?" She hoped so, because that's all she had, and one glance out the window at the snowdrifts cinched the decision to not spend any more time outdoors than she had to.

"It's fine," the woman didn't even give the ID a cursory glance; she grabbed the money and shoved two keys across the counter. "Room 109, right down that hall. You're at the back of the hotel, so if you have a car, park it around back. Soda and vending machines are over there, there's an ice machine on the way to your room, and the Grill is open nine to five every day but Sunday. You've gotta find your own meals on Sunday."

"Thanks," Anna pocketed the keys and slapped a signature onto the paper pushed toward her, the pen leaving furious blue marks above the black line marked with an x. She hesitated, digging the fingers of her left hand into the strap on her bag before she heard herself ask. "Can you use any help around the hotel? I need...I'd like a job somewhere."

"Sure could, Cupcake." Eyes the startling gray after a storm has swept through the sky slid over her face, the eyebrows above them narrowed. "I'm Carrie and you can work at the Grill if you know how to carry plates and take orders."

"I can do that," Anna mumbled, feeling her neck muscles twitch at the thought of such menial work. She'd been born and bred for far more than to sling plates around a dirty dining room in the middle of nowhere, but what else was she going to do?

"Good. You start at nine tomorrow, come in about fifteen minutes earlier to get your uniform. Wear comfortable shoes. The pay is three bucks an hour, plus whatever tips you can squeeze out of the tightwads who come through here."

"I...thanks." Anna turned away at last, glancing at Rai as if she didn't know what to do with him. He saved her from having to discover a way to escape by taking her hand again and squeezing it, his smile firmly in place.

"I'll come by to see you after work...Anne," he told her. Anna wasn't sure what the pause before her name meant, but she didn't have time to ponder it before he was gone, lost in the blur of snow whipped up by the stiff breeze. She headed back toward her room, stopping only to grab a soda from the machine.

Cool soda in hand, she dropped down onto the single bed, already feeling constrained by the small room. A small painting hanging above the television added the only bright spot of color; the yellow flowers stood out strangely against the dark brown walls and carpet.

She'd seen worse though; worse was outside in the piles of snow. Sleep came slowly, but, burrowed beneath the heavy comforter and piles of blankets, Anna had to admit this was better than her flight away from St. Louis had been. Definitely better than being without a place to sleep in this cold hell.

Rai's dark eyes and that too-straight-to-be-from-anything-but-a-blade scar filled her mind as she faded into sleep.

~~**~**~~

 _You'll die as you lived  
In a flash of the blade,  
In a corner forgotten by no one  
You lived for the touch  
For the feel of the steel  
One man, and his honor_  
"Flash Of the Blade" – Iron Maiden

More work went into being a waitress than Anna had expected. By the time her shift ended, her feet ached and burned within her boots, her arms hurt at the elbows from carrying trays overflowing with plates that dripped with food, and her butt hurt from the press of gnarled fingers to her ass as the old men (and some not so old for that matter) pinched her.

"I'm gonna shoot one of them," she muttered as she hung up the heavy blue apron and tucked the new red and white checkered shirt and red skirt that compromised the uniform the waitresses (all three of them, on a busy day) had to wear under her arm. "And then bury the body under the snow..."

"By the time the thaws came, no one would know it was you who did the killing, is that the plan?" Rai laughed as he leaned back against the doorframe. "Except that it won't have started to decompose, so any clues you left on the body would still be there. All that snow would keep everything frozen."

"Maybe I know how to kill without leaving evidence behind," Anna snapped before she could help herself. The hairs on the back of her neck bristled at the implied accusation that she didn't know what she was doing, even though she realized in a small part of her mind that Anne *wouldn't* know what she was doing, not when it came to the topic at hand.

"That'd be a talent you don't find in many girls, Anne," Rai told her. All traces of his smile were gone, wiped off of his face by the thoughtful expression that narrowed his eyebrows and pressed his lips together until tiny white crescents appeared at the corners.

Anna had to look away; she knew mortification colored her face a pale white, and she feared her eyes would give away the struggle between the surge of pride that she knew such things and the surge of disgust at the thought of her past.

"How was your first day at the Grill?" Though the small restaurant had another name, some carefully selected words to give the place a down home kind of feel, everyone, from customers to the owner, called it simply the Grill. The capital G was inherent in the way they pronounced it.

"Hard," Anna admitted, walking toward him. Her mind flinched away from that thought and she assured herself she was merely walking to the door so she could go to her room, and that he was just in her path.

"You need better shoes," he observed, peeling himself away from the wall as she passed. "Toss your uniform in your room and come on. We'll go find you some tennis shoes or something. Those boots are great for outside, but not so comfortable on the linoleum, I'm sure."

Anna tilted her head, regarding him with closed-down eyes. She flicked her tongue across her lips, wetting them unconsciously, and nodded. After all, she did need new shoes, she did have cash in her pocket again, courtesy of the over-zealous men and the tips they were all too glad to leave a cute waitress, and she did need a way to go around town.

He hovered in the doorway while she hung the skirt and shirt in her mostly empty closet. The black space inside mocked her with its simplicity and she fought the urge to pull a gun and simply take all the clothes she wanted to fill it.

"Ever ridden on a motorcycle before?" Rai asked as he led her outside. Anna nodded, wanting to ask how he planned on riding a cycle around on the ice-slick streets when she herself had problems on plain water. Her answer came after a moment, proving yet again that sometimes (make that often) it was better to keep her mouth shut and wait.

Sitting in front of the hotel, tucked in between a Chevy truck that stood a good foot taller than she was and a long station wagon complete with chains on the tires, neither of which would be moving any time soon because of the height of the snow, was a snowmobile, though she'd never seen one up close.

Laughter bubbled up inside her belly and spilled out past her pale lips, tumbling around the fingers she shoved to her mouth to try to hide the sound, because she didn't want to insult Rai. Laughter was the only reaction she could have had, though.

It was the stupidest machine she'd ever seen. Anna's shoulders shook from the force of her amusement as she stepped toward it, removing one hand from her mouth to hold out in front of her body, just in case she lost control of her legs during this fit of humor and tumbled face first into the snow.

The seat could have been taken from some of the custom motorcycles she'd seen in the past; that was the only normal part of the vehicle. In front, two squat skis stuck out, curving up at the tips to point toward the top of the shiny blue frame, the white Polaris™ visible on the side. In back...the only thing she could compare it to was a small tank; instead of more skis or wheels, a track of what looked like dull metal and rubber sat under the black leather seat, built for two.

"You like it." Had Rai voiced his words as a question, she might have denied them, but he was so sure that her laughter was a good thing. And when she calmed enough to consider it, ignoring the ache in her belly from too much laughing, she realized she did like it. It might have looked like the half-breed child of a four-wheeler and a Caterpillar™ construction machine, but it was almost...cute, in an ugly sort of way. Kind of like a little troll, sitting in the snow.

"Well, come on," Rai held his hand out to her, the laughter in his voice tempered by the pleased shake of his head. While she'd been contemplating the snowmobile, he'd already climbed on and sat, one hand on the handlebars, the other waiting to help her on.

She ignored the offer of help and scrambled onto the back, her movements hampered by the strange rear tire. Anna knew she looked like a fool, clambering onto the machine, struggling to figure out where to put her feet and hands, but she didn't care; the good feeling her laughter had brought remained with her, warming her chest even in the ice-cold air.

Rai placed both hands on the snowmobile and it purred to life, the first vibrations traveling from the machine and up Anna's legs, stirring, deep within her body, a primal urge to yell. She leaned forward, resting her hands on Rai's hips, hanging on tightly as he pulled away from the curb and out onto the snow-covered street.

The wind was harsh as the vehicle picked up speed; Anna had to hide her face to stop the stinging and she knew her cheeks and nose were a violent red. A helmet would have blocked some of the problem and she wondered why Rai hadn't offered her one.

"We're just going up the street." As if he'd heard her unspoken question, Rai's voice drifted back to her, louder than she'd ever heard him speak before, though she realized it was because he wanted her to hear him over the roar of the machine.

"Ok," she called back, squeezing his sides with her arms just in case he hadn't heard her muffled reply. She was too cold to lift her face away from his heavy winter coat; the heat from his body seeped up through it and onto her skin.

He stuck with her through her quick shopping trip, nodding his approval over the shoes she'd picked out, both a pair of tennis shoes and a pair of flat boots, the bottoms serrated to give her better traction on the snow.

He took her to dinner, too, not just the Grill, but to a lovely restaurant with silk flowers decorating the tables and actual waiters in suits. The food was delicious, but she marveled more over the conversation. He spoke freely, openly even, about his life; his family entered the talk, his friends, his job...everything.

She didn't understand that kind of trust in a stranger.

And when he took her back to the hotel, walked her to her room door, and told her he'd see her after work, she was too surprised that he wanted to see her again to stop him from leaning forward and pressing his lips to her cheek. He'd waited to leave until she was safely inside her room, but made no attempt to get her to invite him in.

He was a paradox, trusting and open, but not pushy, friendly without being overwhelming. Anna stretched out on her bed, clad in an oversized t-shirt and tucked beneath a large pile of blankets, and realized with a start that sent her sitting upright that she was actually looking forward to seeing him again, if for nothing more than another chance to talk.

Never mind that her cheek continued to tingle for three hours after he left. That had nothing to do with her desire to see him again, nothing at all.

~~**~**~~

The weeks passed quickly because of Rai's company, and, within a few days, his friends' company. They took to Anna rather quickly, faster than she was really comfortable with, but Rai trusted them and she, surprisingly, trusted him.

The fact that his friends never questioned Rai when he told them she was now a part of their group didn't settle well in her mind at first, because his words had bordered closely on being an order. By the end of the first week, she'd forgotten all about it. And now, weeks later, when she should have been planning out a new identity and a new location, Anna hadn't given one thought to leaving.

Rai swept through the doors to the Grill as he did every night, a minute before she got off, and Anna felt her lips turn up into a grin. They'd progressed slowly from casual touching to deep kisses that bordered on smoldering; Anna returned to her room at night on fire, hardly needing the layers of blankets to keep her warm. But it wasn't just the physical closeness she enjoyed; in fact, just talking to him made her happier than anything else they did. He listened to her like no one else had in her entire life, and she rejoiced in it.

When Rai's mouth didn't twist into a matching smile, Anna felt her heart plummet down to the general vicinity of her toes. Things had been going well; too well, she was aware, and she had been waiting for this new life to be jerked out from under her like a moth-bitten rug.

"There's a problem, Anne." Rai rested his elbows on the counter and his chin in his hands and leaned forward toward her, his dark eyes locked with her blue ones. "Not with you, don't even think that."

His uncanny ability to read her thoughts annoyed the shit out of her; however, it also brought welcome relief at times like these. She snapped her mouth closed and waited for him to continue.

"With my boys. The Hawks have been sniffing around." During her third week there, Anna had been introduced to the concept of the Hawks...and the Leopards. Not a gang officially, the two factions kept far away from each other. As far as she could tell, the animosity stemmed back through their parents for generation upon generation, and hatred brewed deep within their blood.

Rai led the Leopards, as the men of his family had for years innumerable. She didn't know the man who led the Hawks; he was older, bigger, darker, and she'd seen him in town only once. Ky-lee, one of the few female members of the Leopards who hadn't joined only because she was dating one of the males and Rai's number one confidant, had pointed him out and whispered tales of horror until Anna felt her stomach twist with the same hatred the others held toward him and his Hawks.

"What happened?" she asked, jerking off her apron and tossing it behind the counter. She hurried around to his side, expecting him to grab a table and explain everything, but he planted one hand at the small of her back and ushered her out of the Grill and to her room; for the first time he followed her inside.

"Get dressed." Anna's head jerked up in surprise; the statement wasn't a request but a flat out order, and she didn't like that one bit. His face softened and he sank down onto the end of the bed, motioning toward the closet with one hand. "Go on. Warm clothes. And I'll tell you how I got my scar."

She hesitated only a second longer, but then scurried across the room to pull on layers and the warmest clothes she'd accumulated. Her curiosity about the imperfection on his face hadn't left her; had, in fact, been boiling up, higher and higher, since the first day she saw him.

"Keith, the last leader of the Hawks, took my older brother." Anna stopped her preparations, a long-sleeved shirt falling to the floor as she stared at him, mouth open. He'd never mentioned a brother before, not in all the time they'd spent talking about his family (but never her own, of course). "We went after them. He killed my brother and when I challenged him...he left me with this."

Anna dragged the shirt over her head and crossed to him, kneeling at his feet, her hands resting on his knees. Her voice stuck somewhere between her lungs and her throat, and whatever words of comfort she might have offered up were lost when he continued to speak.

"I killed him, though, and Kane took over the Hawks. Keith was his younger brother; Kane had disgraced himself years before and his father passed the Hawks down to Keith instead. When I killed him, Kane was the only one left of the bloodline, and he had to take it."

"What's happened now?" Anna couldn't lift her voice above a strained whisper, no matter how she tried to infuse her words with strength and support. Her fingers squeezed his knees lightly, and he pressed up, leaning into her touch just enough to assure her it was doing good.

"Kane wants revenge, I think," Rai looked down at her at last, his eyes unfathomable, but filled with secrets Anna feared she'd need to know before the night was out. "And I have to go fight him."

"You beat Keith," she reminded him. "You can beat Kane, too."

"The Hawks do not fight fairly; they never have, but it has grown increasingly worse since Kane took over. I'm taking the Leopards to ensure I don't have to fight the entire group."

"Ok...." Anna trailed off, unsure as to where she fit into this plan. Maybe he'd come by just to say good-bye; her stomach twisted uncomfortably at that thought.

"Come fight with us." Her eyes locked with his again, seeing him as if for the first time. Anticipation suffused itself throughout her body and she wanted to throw her arms into the air and yell her happiness at the impending fight...but that was Anna, not Anne, and she was Anne now.

"I don't have a gun or anything," she whispered, dropping her hands to her sides in an attempt to hide the eager trembling that swept through her body. He shook his head at her, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth at last.

"You don't need one," he whispered. "Just a sword. I have taken the liberty of...providing you with weapons." He stood, opened her bedroom door and, as if by magic, a wooden trunk sat there. He lifted it with care and carried it back to the bed.

Her fingers shook again as she opened it, but this time it was from the waves of awe and disbelief that warped her reactions. He'd gotten her this? And whatever was inside...she dragged a slow breath of air into her lungs and lifted the lid.

Inside, nestled among long sheets of black velvet, two swords lay together, surrounded by tinier weapons, from a blade long enough to be called a short sword to the smallest throwing knife imaginable.

"I was going to ask you to join us," he murmured, resting his forehead against her shoulder when his chin wouldn't quite reach. "And give these to you then. But I think you'll need them more now...if you'll go with us."

"Of course." Anna could no longer keep the deep vein of darkness from her voice. She returned to her closet, her strides purposeful and cocky, comfortable inside her own skin at last.

After the last article of clothing was on, except for the leather jacket that would finish the ensemble, she began to tuck the weapons away, hiding the smaller ones first. He stopped her from strapping the two swords on either side at her waist and caught them up in his arms as she threw on the coat.

"We're taking the ‘mobile," he told her, leading her down the hallway faster than he'd ever moved before. "We'll put the swords on after we get there."

"Where's there?" she asked, but her words were lost beneath the roar of at least twenty snowmobiles. The Leopards were gathered in full force, some mounted two on one machine. Rai strapped the swords to the side of his own snowmobile; Anna noticed two more swords were already tied to the other side, his own weapons, she assumed.

"Come on then," he handed her a black helmet, decorated only with a silver leopard creeping up from the back, one clawed paw extended over until the tips of the claws ran into the edge of the helmet at her forehead. "We ride, Leopards."

And ride they did, through the back streets and out of town, following paths that Anna had never seen before, even though she'd spent a great deal of time on the snowmobiles the past few weeks. She wrapped her arms tightly around Rai's waist, her face protected by the black plastic in front of her eyes, and glanced from side to side, trying to take everything in as they left civilization and descended into a wilderness she'd only dreamed of.

What the hell had she gotten herself into this time? A shudder of apprehension traced along her spine, and she resolved that her first goal was to stay alive. Unhurt was another matter indeed.

~~**~**~~

 _The smell of rosined leather  
The steely iron mask  
As you cut and thrust and parried  
At the fencing master's call  
He taught you all he knew  
To fear no mortal man  
And now you'll wreak your vengeance in the  
Screams of evil men_  
"Flash Of the Blade" – Iron Maiden

"Yellowstone," Ky-lee caught Anna gazing around at the woods that stood up, up, and up, high enough to block what feeble light could escape the gray clouds which threatened to dump more layers of snow to the already covered ground. "We're inside Yellowstone. The trails are open for snowmobiles only; we're far enough away from the main riding paths that none of the rangers will find us."

"Oh," Anna shivered and slid off of Rai's bike, reaching automatically for the swords she'd so recently acquired. He handed them to her without a word, not waiting to watch as she strapped them on at her waist.

Silence descended around the Leopards. Anna strained her senses, but could hear nothing besides the distance pop and crackle of branches breaking beneath the load of snow they bore. Rai's head was tilted as he too listen; she wanted to move closer, as if the few feet between them might help her hear, but was afraid the sound of her feet breaking through the snow's crust would mask whatever he was listening for.

He must have been waiting for some sign; though nothing discernable had changed as far as Anna noticed, he nodded to himself and moved away from snowmobile, motioning the others to follow him.

Anna fell into step in the middle of the group, where it was easier to move because the leaders had already broken through the high snow drifts and packed some of it beneath their feet, though how it could be packed any harder than it already was, Anna didn't know.

Even in her made-for-traction boots she slid to and fro, needing Ky-lee's offered arm more times than she liked. At last Rai stopped and the others froze; Anna skidded to a halt, more than a little impressed by how synchronized their movements were. Even in rest, their pent up energy seemed to vibrate at exactly the same speed.

For the first time she began to understand why they called themselves the Leopards. She knew it came from some ancient wisdom their forefathers had passed down to them, but they had more in common with the animal they were named for than she'd expected.

If she believed in lycanthropy, she'd wonder if they were wereleopards. Since no such creatures existed outside of the stories, she could only imagine that years of training had brought out their baser instincts.

"They're here."

Anna didn't need Rai's statement; though she'd heard nothing approach; the very feel of the air around her changed, creeping over her skin with deadly intent. She glanced about, keeping the movement slow so as to not seem paranoid, but saw nothing.

"Come out, Kane," Rai lifted his voice until it rang throughout the tiny clearing. Anna caught her breath, her hands tightening into fists, her every sense straining to catch a sound, a smell, anything that would give away the location of their enemies.

A man emerged from the trees in front of Rai, each step chosen with care to fully exhibit the menace he held for the group in front of him. The trick worked; Anna had to fight with herself to keep from backing up and giving ground.

"Rai," his voice, when it came, was deep, but had an awkward screech to it that reminded Anna, appropriately enough, of a hawk's feral cry as it plummeted to earth to capture its prey.

"Kane." Anna missed Rai's motion, but he must have made one, for the Leopards fanned out around him, falling into an attack pattern that was alien to Anna. She stepped backward, more to give herself a chance to watch the others than from any fear of the situation, and had to note, after a moment's perusal, that the formation looked appropriate; each individual location offered the best chance of hurting one of the enemy.

The image and her response to it were tucked away inside her mind for possible use at a later date. She pressed her lips together and continued to watch, learning her lessons quickly, even without an active instructor.

The Hawks settled into their own formation, one obviously comfortable to them. Though she was sure it was just a trick of the light, each individual's eyes glinted with the stone-solid malice she'd seen in the eyes of birds of prey.

"You've brought fresh meat," Kane flung his head back and laughed, the sound hanging above them, lifted higher and higher by the cold wind that battered their bodies. "How appropriate that she will watch your failure instead of taking her place in your ranks."

"Leave her out of this." Rai's words escaped his throat in a low growl, twisting around their legs, caressing his own people; the Hawks began to murmur uneasily, shifting their weight back and forth. "This is between us, Kane."

"Yes," Kane hissed, his face twisting with anticipation. Features that should have been beautiful—large eyes, thick lashes, high cheekbones, and a full mouth—turned ugly before Anna could draw in a full breath. "It is between us, Rai."

Nothing more was said; nothing more needed to be said. Rai bowed his head to Kane, keeping his eyes on the face of his enemy and waiting for the return acknowledgement. When it came, he stepped backward, leaving his weight on his rear foot, and jerked his sword from its sheath.

Tiny tremors fled down Anna's back at the sound of metal scraping past metal as it was freed. It was a sound from her past and should have been disconcerting; instead, it comforted her and fanned the building ache in her belly.

The Hawks and the Leopards fell back, each forming a half-moon shape that, when joined together, made a loose circle. Large open spaces stood between each end of the group, but no one made a move to cross them.

Anna placed her hands on the hilts of her swords. Her fingers wrapped around metal so cold she could feel it through her gloves and tightened on them as she struggled to keep herself from baring her own blades and wading into the battle. None of the Hawks had offered any sort of violence so far, and she knew until one did, she and the Leopards were to remain back and let Rai fight.

Holding herself back wasn't Anna's strong point, and in another attempt to distract her mind from her body's demand to join in, she focused her attention on Rai and Kane as they battled.

Rai's movements were easy, liquid silver poured into a human's body. His sword was truly an extension of his arm; his muscles tightened and the blade flashed beneath the faint light. Kane, on the other hand, swung with more power than finesse, his every movement jerky as it lurched into the next, the briefest pause separating each thrust and parry.

The men moved across the snow as if it was solid ground; neither showed a single sign of loss of traction. Anna watched them, her jealousy thick in her eyes, though from a glance no one would know where it stemmed from.

"Pay attention to the Hawks," Ky-lee breathed into her ear as she leaned into Anna under pretense of straightening her collar. With difficulty, Anna dragged her eyes away from the fighters and focused on the ring of observers across from her.

The Hawks hadn't moved since they'd entered the circle; however, they were again shifting their weight, arms twitching and hands running down their sides over and over, with no obvious purpose.

Anna realized that the soft sounds she'd attributed to the wind really came from the Hawks. As they swayed back and forth just enough to begin to be distracting, they murmured to one another, quiet words that were lost before the sound could travel all the way across the clearing.

It didn't matter that she couldn't tell what they were saying; they were obviously up to no good.

The murmuring grew louder, but each word twisted into the next so quickly that none of the Leopards could quite catch them. The Leopards themselves began to move, pacing two steps this way and two steps that way, not moving closer by a single inch, but utilizing the pent up energy in the only manner available.

Anna stepped forward before she realized she wasn't the only one to do so. As if they'd all heard an unspoken command, the Leopards and the Hawks both began to close ranks, drawing closer and closer together, curving around their leaders as the battle continued.

 _You'll die as you lived  
In a flash of the blade,  
In a corner forgotten by no one  
You lived for the touch  
For the feel of the steel  
One man, and his honor_  
"Flash of the Blade" – Iron Maiden

Anna would never know for sure who started the chain of events that filled the next few moments: it could have been a Leopard, tired of waiting for the attack, taking the fight to them; it could have been a Hawk, having waited until the time was right to step in; or it could have been some combination, an awkward movement by one side or the other, misinterpreted by the enemy.

It didn't matter in the long run.

What did matter was that more people spilled into the center of the circle, swords clashing together, primal screams, in a language Anna had only heard in passing as Rai spoke with his closest followers, echoing into the darkening sky.

In the turmoil, Rai stumbled, distracted for an instant by Ky-lee's scream of pain, and sank to his knees in the snow. Kane struck, his animal instincts taking over as he grabbed the window of opportunity fate had offered.

Anna threw herself forward, her eyes on Kane's blade as it flashed above his head. As trite as it was, time seemed to slow down; she had many long moments, or so it felt, to cross the snow to Rai, her body crashing into his and knocking him sideways. She had more than enough time to draw her sword and throw it up above her head to block the blow.

What she didn't have time for was the problem. She never saw Kane's second sword swing free, curving upward even as she surged to her feet, holding his first sword away from her head with her own. The second blade carved into her upper stomach and pressed higher, cracking against her lower ribs.

The world slammed back into full speed as the pain convulsed her entire body. Her sword fell from her aching fingers and Anna tumbled backward, unable to even throw her arms up to protect her face as Kane's clean blade continued the downward sweep.

It struck Rai's sword with enough force to draw faint blue sparks; Rai lunged forward in a move that would have been called foul by a fencing master, and plunged a small dagger into Kane's chest, twisting it as if he would cut his heart from his body.

Kane yelped and staggered backward, caught on either side by his closest men. They pulled him away into the trees as their wounded compadres slunk back into the woods to lick their wounds and return another day.

The dark clouds overhead began to spit snow, not the fluffy flakes that Anna had always associated with such weather, but chunks of solid ice driven by the foul wind that whipped up, bending trees in its path.

"Help me with her," Rai called as he sank down at Anna's side, tearing off his jacket despite the below freezing temperatures and pressing it to the wound. The other Leopards back away, heading for their snowmobiles, their eyes on the storm raging around them.

"Leave her," one cried out, his face lost in the snow. "She interrupted a straight duel; besides, she isn't one of us. If we take her, we might not make it back to town in this storm."

"We're not leaving her!" Rai ricocheted to his feet, striding away from Anna and leaving her in Ky-lee's care, though the older girl was bleeding from a stab wound in her shoulder. "And the next one who suggests that tastes my sword. She showed just as much loyalty as the rest of you. She's a Leopard and we don't leave our own."

"She's not!" The same man yelled the two words, forcing his voice to be heard above the wind. "She never will be, no matter if she's your lover or not. She's not one of our kind, Rai. She's white bread, and she won't understand."

"She does understand, more than you do if you continue to question me," Rai shook his head and turned sharply on his heels, heading back for Anna. "Leave her and you leave us. We're taking her to get help, and that's my final word."

The order wasn't shouted; was, in fact, spoken quietly. It still echoed beneath the storm, curving into the ear of each of the Leopards. He had given the order and so it was done; they'd each die to get the girl back to the hospital. They had no choice.

He was their leader.

Anna's eyelashes fluttered weakly against her cheek as she tried to lift her head to speak. Rai hushed her, pressing his fingers to her mouth, and then lifted her with surprising ease, considering she was taller than he was.

"Hush, Anne," he told her, cradling her to his chest as he headed back to the snowmobiles. "You'll be fine. The wound isn't that bad."

"It hurts," she whimpered, pressing her eyes closed once more to hide her tears of pain. Ky-lee tsked quietly and took off her own bloodstained coat, adding it to the one already covering Anna's stomach and chest.

Rai managed to tuck Anna onto his lap, holding her between his body and the handlebars. It was awkward going, and he kept the speed low for that reason...that, and to try to not hurt the injured girl as they traversed uneven ground.

All his trouble was for naught; the first bump they hit brought a wail of agony from Anna's pale lips and she passed into a blessed unconsciousness, losing herself in a darkness studded with red spikes of pain.

~~**~**~~

 _You'll die as you lived  
In a flash of the blade,  
In a corner forgotten by no one  
You lived for the touch  
For the feel of the steel  
One man, and his honor_  
"Flash of the Blade" – Iron Maiden

"Anne?" Anna drifted back to consciousness slowly, her mind struggling to focus through the fog clouding her brain as she tried to figure out why some guy was calling her ‘Anne.' It was a good thing she blinked, waiting for her eyes to clear, instead of questioning the speaker.

Rai bent over Anna's bed, resting his hands on her arm, careful to keep his fingers out of the twist of wires from the IVs and other machines hooked up to her pale body. His dark eyes shimmered with fear; relief flashed through them, brighter than a starry night, when she met his gaze.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, sinking down to perch on the edge of the bed. She shook her head slowly, trying to find her voice, but it seemed to be lost in the dry desert of her lower throat, caught somewhere between the line of fire lancing across her ribs and the parched pieces of skin that were once her lips.

Salvation existed only an arm's reach away; a jug of water, requisite in each and every hospital room, sat on the rolling table just past Rai's shoulder. She turned her gaze to it, and traced the tip of her tongue around her lips. She might as well have ran a piece of paper over them for all the good it did her, but Rai seemed to be able to read her mind.

"It left a scar," Rai poured the water into the flimsy plastic glass, gripping it between his fingers as best he could. Drops slopped over onto his hand, but he ignored the chill and passed it to Anna. She accepted it with a silent sigh and pressed it to her mouth, almost inhaling the water in her haste.

"A scar," she whispered. Her hand clenched around the cup until the plastic twisted beneath her fingers, crunching and forcing the last drops of water out onto the blanket; white lines raced up the sides of the cup to pierce the rim, breaking it open. "Great."

"Not an ugly one," Rai leaned over her, drawing the sheets down until they pooled around her waist. He was careful to keep them in place so nothing indecent would be revealed as he tugged at her hospital gown, baring her stomach to them both. "See?"

Cool fingers traced over the scar; it was so new it still held a faint roughness to the skin. As time passed, the bumps would fade out, leaving only a slick patch of smoothness, but for now it fairly glowed red, raw and painful.

"I'm leaving." Anna hadn't realized anything had been made up in her mind until she spoke, but knew the decision was the right one. Rai nodded, his dark eyes empty of the surprise she'd expected to find there. What's more, he didn't try to convince her there were twenty thousand reasons to stay.

"It's time for you to go," he whispered, lifting her right hand in his, careful again of the medical equipment tucked inside. "Be careful, Anne. There's a crazy world out there just waiting to devour you. Don't let it."

Anna nodded and pressed her left hand to the outside of his. She squeezed as tightly as she was able to and let her eyes drift shut, urged back into sleep by the medicines dripping directly into her bloodstream.

Rai sat with her until her breathing evened out into a slow rise and fall of her chest and her hands fell away from his, slack as the muscles relaxed. He tucked her back in, smoothed the sheets over her body, rolled the table so that she could reach the water when she woke back up, and left, keeping his dark eyes focused straight ahead.

When Anna regained consciousness the next morning, she wasn't surprised to find him gone; nor was she surprised that her chest ached for reasons that had nothing to do with the sword wound. When the doctors let her go, she made no stops on her way back to her hotel room.

Her bags were packed and waiting on a perfectly made bed, the covers tucked neatly under the mattress along each side. A small purse, stuffed full of money, sat in front of the bags; it was devoid of any identification.

Though she searched for a note, none presented itself to her. Again she wasn't surprised; this was the only way the situation could end. It felt right, deep inside, and she knew once she moved past the pain at having to leave, she'd see the lesson that had to be buried somewhere within it.

The bus left at noon and Anna barely caught it. She rested her head against the cold glass, ignoring the pain inside her brain as the chill seeped into her skin. Blue eyes flashed as they gazed through the partially frosted window, searching for one last sign.

Rai waited in the shadows of the alley, surrounded by his Leopards. None dared question why he had brought them so close to their new friend and then refused to let any approach her; they'd asked the only questions they'd ever offered him when he said they were to let her go.

Now they watched as the bus pulled away, her image disappearing in the glint of sunlight off of glass and waited until Rai released them to their lives. He remained where he was, following the path of the road with his eyes, both hands shoved into his pockets.

When the sun sank into nothingness and he could hear a lone wolf howl floating to him from the wilderness beyond the city lights, Rai returned to his home, his life, his people.


	3. Chapter 3

_Love Lift Me wherever you are  
Convince me I'm safe in your arms  
Love Lift me make sense of it all  
Teach me to fly and don't let me fall_

_And when it's all said and done  
It's just the same for everyone  
You're busy making your plans  
Love's like a bird baby  
Flyin' out of your hands_  
"Love Lift Me" – Amanda Marshall

The sweltering heat of a California day was long gone by the time the Boardwalk lights flickered off and then back on to signal the last ten minutes left for the night; the ocean released the warmth of the day almost before the sun had completely faded from the sky. A cool breeze wafted up over the pier, thick with the scent of seaweed and salt water.

Anna glanced at Dwayne, her eyes locked on his face when he wouldn't meet her gaze. He said nothing, did nothing, but she knew without knowing why, that he was chanting the same words over and over inside his head, a silent reminder that what she was telling him was from the past, a past she had obviously overcome if she was sitting with him.

Anna couldn't blame him for such a reaction; had he told her of his near-death experience, she wouldn't have controlled herself even as well as he was.

"Dwayne?" she ventured as darkness settled over the Boardwalk to their left. The neon lights faded into nothingness as hordes of teenagers, the last of the flock that craved the energy of the seaside entertainment, dispersed into the night.

Dwayne didn't answer her verbally; instead he turned, running one hand up inside her shirt until his sensitive fingers could press against the slick scar that still ran along her ribs. He let his dark eyes meet her gaze at last, not afraid of the depth of his reaction, but that it was in response to a story from years upon years ago.

"I didn't love him." Anna wrapped her arms around Dwayne, unsure as to what had created the worst reaction in him. He nodded, burying his face against her chest, his fingers still tracing over her scar, taking comfort in its familiar feel and slash of darker color on her pale skin.

"I know," he murmured against her body. "That's not what scares me…scared." He shook his head slightly, just enough that she could feel the motion where he leaned into her. The present tense didn't go unnoticed by either of them, nor was it commented upon.

"I didn't die, either," Anna reminded him. If it wasn't her tryst with Rai that disturbed him, it could be nothing other than this. "It felt a lot worse than it was, they told me. I didn't come close to dying."

Dwayne's arms tightened around her waist, dragging her even closer to his body until no space was left between them and she felt as if she'd melt into him in a wash of fiery blood and cold skin.

"I never thought…" he stopped and lifted his head at last, meeting her gaze with serious eyes. "I knew you were special. I didn't know you had so much dark history. It's no wonder you were sent to us; your life was melded to fit into ours."

"What are you talking about?" Anna whispered. She hadn't spent much time wondering why she was chosen as their Protector; she hadn't wanted to spend much time considering it. As far as she was concerned—or so she had convinced herself for months—the past was the past and she had no reason to drag it up again.

Lately though, her thoughts came unbidden, unwanted, and uncontrollable in their depth, details, and desperate quality. Perhaps the past held more answers than she'd expected; perhaps examining her memories would clear away the fog of her future.

"If you weren't meant to come to us…" Dwayne lifted one hand away from her lower body and pressed his fingers first to his cheek and then her own. "If you weren't our Protector, maybe your life wouldn't have been so…. Maybe you could have had a normal time of it, without all the…pain. Darkness."

"I wouldn't want it that way!" Anna realized her words came across in a feral cry of anger and she relaxed, sinking back into him, letting her voice quiet. "I like the…darkness. I like what I am. I wouldn't…I couldn't change it. It's too thick here…" she pressed her fingers to her heart and then up to her head, "and here."

"You…" Dwayne's words trailed off; his eyes gave away the secret ending to the sentence as he watched her, respect, love, admiration, desire all thick in his gaze. She knew, without him having to speak and force himself into an uncomfortable turn of phrase.

"There's more," she whispered, twisting sideways so that she could stretch out along the bench. Dwayne slid to the other end and pillowed her head in his lap, dragging his fingers through her hair, careful to extract the tangles so she would feel no pain.

"There always is," he reminded her, but pressed his lips together and waited for her words to continue. His chest relaxed, freeing his heart from the tight clamp of pain that had appeared the moment she'd mentioned Rai and had only grown stronger at her near-death; he was ready for the next twist in her history.

"No blood," she assured him, leaning sideways until her head pressed against his stomach, bare beneath the leather jacket, just as she liked him to be. "No fighting, no death, nothing."

"What makes it worth sharing then?" Dwayne's hand stilled within her hair, the tips of his fingers pressing against her scalp gently, light pressure that eased the tension out of her body.

"Internal," she whispered, more to the stars over head, watching her as she spilled the dark truth from inside. "Not external." Dwayne clamped his lips together and placed his free hand on her stomach, rubbing back and forth with tiny movements. Beneath them the ocean beat itself out upon the thick wooden pillars holding up the pier and above them dark clouds struggled with the starlight, each wanting to be seen.

~~**~**~~

 _Standing on the edge of time  
Playing out a reckless pantomime  
And every day's another wrong to rectify  
I dream about a stranger's touch  
And voices in my head I cannot hush  
And every night's a hunger I can't satisfy_

 _It's the secret that I keep  
It's the ache that makes me weep  
And I know I'm in too deep  
I'm gonna drown  
It's the emptiness I fear  
Baby, please don't leave me here  
'Cause I'm lost inside a dream  
That's out of bounds_  
"Out of Bounds" – Amanda Marshall

New York City wasn't the most hospitable place. It took money to live there, and courage to face the masses of humanity who just didn't care. It was a haven for Anna, but one she couldn't stand.

Too many people surrounded her, even if they did ignore what had no direct meaning to their life. She didn't feel safe there, even though none of her family would ever find her in the crowds. She didn't feel happy there, not without the friends she'd grown to rely on.

It was, however, the best place to lose herself in the crowds, cut herself off from everyone and everything except for the feeling, deep inside, that she was supposed to be somewhere, doing something. What that something was, she didn't know.

All she knew was that she was supposed to be doing it soon.

Her dreams had taken a turn for the worse; she'd had nightmares her whole life, but they were horror tales she could enjoy in the light of day, relive within her mind and relish the details her imagination, whether conscious or not, could come up with.

Now, however, the darkness of her nightly mental exercises terrified her. They were bloody, full of corpses and pain, killing during the nights, and days without sunshine. They were terrible, screams echoing throughout them, tearing into her ears until she felt like her eardrums would burst.

They scared her because each morning she woke refreshed, happy; she enjoyed the nightly trips through her own personal hell, had even begun to go to sleep earlier and earlier, before the sun had even set for the evening, in an attempt to capture more of them within her mind.

One night she'd woken up before dawn, her body coated with sweat so thick the sheets slid over her slick skin without any resistance. Her hair stuck to her face, damp tendrils almost black from the wetness.

She couldn't stay still; couldn't go back to sleep, though she'd remained frozen in bed, trying to force her eyes closed. Not until the sun began to press against the skylight above her head did drowsiness hit her; she was unconscious before the light was fully visible.

Never before had she slept the day away, only to awake when dusk settled over the city and the neon lights sprang to life. She couldn't eat; the thought of food turned her stomach. The reaction should have been to the layers of blood and thicker chunks of meat that tormented her nightly. It was not.

Two weeks passed as she fought the changing rhythms within her body, struggled against the call of the night. Exactly fourteen days after the pattern had begun, she felt a tugging deep inside, and couldn't keep her body still until she let her feet carry her out into the night.

The city hummed around her; New Yorkers never seemed to sleep. Only in the early afternoon hours, after work, but before the nightlife crowds emerged from their musky, cave-like homes, was the city still. Even now, approaching three a.m., the true witching hour, people bustled back and forth, sweeping past Anna in a surge of humanity that she felt separate from, contemptuous of, though they'd given her no reason to feel that way.

Anna ignored the cabs whizzing by, the subway that she'd mastered after only a day within the city, and the people who hurried past her on their way to this club, that bar, or a party in some out of the way place. Instead she walked, lost within her thoughts, lost within the dreams that still haunted her every sleeping, and now waking, moment.

She didn't stop until she'd reached the Brooklyn Bridge, right as the clocks ticked over to three a.m. She froze at the edge, leaning over the railing to gaze into the blackness beneath it. Somewhere down there, obscured by darkness and fog, water splashed, soothing her troubled mind, though it wasn't the roar of sound she'd been waiting for.

The early morning fog rose up from the water, encasing the bridge and its sole pedestrian occupant in white strings of condensed droplets. Behind her, the hum of the cars passing by was muffled, and Anna sent up a brief thought of thanks for that. The towers at either end were reduced to thick shadows that rose higher and higher until they were lost in the whiteness, like two looming monsters, set to watch over her.

And from the fog, a pair of glowing eyes appeared, moving closer to Anna's unmoving form. She bent forward, pressing her stomach against the safety rail hard enough that the metal bit into her stomach, leaving bruises behind in each place it touched.

 _I close my eyes and it's so real  
And all at once I know just what I feel  
And baby it's the kind of rush that terrifies  
I am weak - I am wrong  
And every day I swear that I'll be strong  
But there's a bond between us that I can't deny_

 _It's the secret that I keep  
It's the ache that makes me weep  
And I know I'm in too deep  
I'm gonna drown  
It's the emptiness I fear  
Baby, please don't leave me here  
'Cause I'm lost inside a dream  
That's out of bounds_  
"Out Of Bounds" – Amanda Marshall

"Anna." The voice came from the wisps of fog, brushing them out of the way to reach her ears. She jerked around, her hair skimming the darkness around her, straining her eyes to make out the shape of the speaker.

"Yes?" she murmured, her hands already creeping toward the knives she'd carried since Rai had gifted them to her. Her chest tightened momentarily, her heart squeezed in a flash of pain at the thought of him, but this was not the time to lose her awareness in nostalgia, no matter how much she missed him.

"Listen to yourself," the speaker remained shrouded in darkness and fog; she could make out a vague outline, and the glowing eyes, but nothing more, no facial features, not even a human shape. "Inside you know what you need to do."

"I'm not going to jump, if that's what you're thinking," Anna snapped. The figure laughed, each separate sound brushing down Anna's skin until she relaxed, her arms dropping back to hang loosely at her sides. She turned away from her visitor and gazed back into the shifting images the fog produced.

"No, Anna, you aren't going to jump," it reiterated. "But you shouldn't be here, either. You know that; your dreams are telling you what you can't ignore, even if you can forget the urges your body offers."

"What are you talking about?" No matter how hard she tried, Anna couldn't put the anger into her words that she felt should have been there. She knew it would be safer to walk away, put as much distance between herself and the mysterious speaker as was possible; she couldn't find the energy to move. It took all her effort just to lift her hands and place them on the metal rail; rust rubbed against her fingers, sensitizing them with its roughness.

"You know what you need to do," he (or she, Anna had to admit she still didn't know) told her. "You know where you need to be. Don't fight yourself; you're needed out there, Anna. They need you."

"Who's they?" she asked. Her head ached and felt so heavy; she lowered her body down until her chin rested on top of her hands, her knees bunched up beneath her body. "Where do I need to go? Why do they need me?"

"Your questions will be answered in time," the voice was fading as the fog thickened around her. "But go. Go to the ocean. Go to them. They will find you, you needn't worry about that. But you have to go now. Soon. The sooner the better, Anna."

Exhaustion overwhelmed her; it was almost more than she could do to regain her feet and stagger to the end of the bridge. From there she caught a cab and was asleep before it had pulled away from the curb. The driver had to wake her when they arrived; he said nothing and accepted the money she shoved at him. Drivers in New York ignored everything as long as they got their money; if you plan on murdering someone, choose a cab. Just don't get blood on the seat.

Anna made it to her bed just barely and tumbled into it, darkness stealing away her vision before she'd grabbed the covers up over her body. By the time the sun crept over the horizon, flooding her studio apartment with light that reflected off of the bare wood floors, she was lost to the world for the day.

That night she packed her bags and headed out, taking a train to Connecticut. There she stopped only long enough to throw away the last of her money on a small car and an atlas of the United States.

She didn't make it a habit to listen to strangers, especially ones who refused to let their faces be seen and who spoke in riddles and half-descriptions. However, the dreams that had come for weeks had set her on edge; she knew she wasn't supposed to be in the Big Apple. The stranger knew it too.

Perhaps the rest of what the stranger said would prove to be true, too. Besides, she was more than ready to leave New York. The mysterious prediction just gave her a specific location—as specific as "go to the ocean" could be—and she wasn't going to question it…any more than she already had.

If she ended up in danger, she could always fight her way out. It had worked before, it would work again. And it was by far time for her to see the West Coast. Winter was cold even in New York City; she never wanted to see snow again. Even death might be preferable to that.

 _I wanna surrender  
I wanna give in  
I wanna lay down and let it be now  
And let it begin  
Let it begin_

 _It's the secret that I keep  
It's the ache that makes me weep  
And I know I'm in too deep  
I'm gonna drown  
It's the emptiness I fear  
Baby, please don't leave me here  
'Cause I'm lost inside a dream  
That's out of bounds_  
"Out Of Bounds" – Amanda Marshall

She stopped in Ohio to sleep through the day in the backseat of her car, hidden away from the sun. It hurt her eyes now, caused raging headaches that she would give anything to end, even if that meant losing her daylight hours to sleep.

The call of the ocean, for she'd finally figured out what the sound was she'd been searching for during the Night of the Stranger—as she'd taken to labeling it inside her mind—was too strong to ignore. She headed west, farther than she'd been before.

Anna skimmed through St. Louis, heading south of Wyoming, through the ice-covered mountains. The car shimmied to and fro as she struggled to control it over the snow; when she escaped into Nevada, the heat of the desert welcomed her like a mother would her child.

She stopped just inside the California border, after promising the officials she had no animals to quarantine or plants that might destroy their precious ecological system. Sleep came quickly and deeply; the dreams hit her almost before she was asleep, filled with more death and ecstasy, a mix she'd never considered before.

The ocean met her before the next night was over; she'd gone as far as she could without climbing into a boat and chancing the chaotic waves, a solution that she actually considered for all of half an hour.

San Francisco was too large, too much like New York City; she avoided it and headed just south, following the twisty, convoluted Highway One until her stomach twisted and she stopped the car, afraid she might be ill. The engine died with a relieved groan, and she stepped out to view her new location. A cool breeze brought the sound of the waves to her ears, and after only a moment spent watching the ocean, she climbed into the car and slid into sleep, once more in the back of her car. No dreams tormented her that night.

Santa Carla welcomed one of its own, greeting her with welcoming noises and the first true peace she'd ever known.

~~**~**~~

 _The sun goes down, the night rolls in  
You can feel it starting all over again  
The moon comes up and the music calls  
You're gettin' tired of starin' at the same four walls_

 _You're out of your room and down on the street  
Movin' through the crowd and the midnight heat  
The traffic crawls, the sirens scream  
You look at the faces, it's just like a dream_  
"You Belong to the City" – Glen Fry

The car brought in enough money to rent an apartment, a ratty old place near the Boardwalk, which the owner assured her was the center of life in Santa Carla, at least amongst the youngsters her own age.

At nineteen, Anna wasn't so sure she wanted to experience the same life others her age would enjoy. Too many years on the road had hardened her; only her recent tryst with Rai and his friends had put a crack in the shell she encased herself behind, and that fracture was still fragile and small. Time would tell if she'd be able to cover it with layers of anger and indifference or if it would be an open wound for years to come.

Despite her misgivings, Anna crept out of her apartment that night, avoiding the leering eyes of the night janitor; his greasy hair disgusted her, but it was the expression on his face that put the first cold prickling of fear in her belly.

Santa Carla glowed at night; even on the far side of the apartments, where buildings, streets, and cars blocked the immediate view of the Boardwalk, she could see its lights dancing in the darkness, throwing everything between it and her into high relief.

She threaded her way around the obstacles until she stood on the far side of the street from the Boardwalk; humans, mostly teenagers and twenty-somethings, with the occasional adult seeking to recapture his or her youth thrown in, fought the crowds to lose themselves in the brash lights and clanging sounds. They were drawn to the neon like moths to a fire; the Boardwalk waited to devour them.

The image that thought produced inside her head pleased her to no end. Anna flung herself into the bumper-to-bumper traffic, dodging this motorcycle and that sports utility vehicle, ignoring the cacophony of horn blasts aimed as much at the other drivers as at her.

When she reached the outskirts of the Boardwalk, she froze, unable to move forward one more step. Through the narrow alley she could see the inside for the first time…and it took her breath away.

Venders called out to those passing by, begging young men to "win the little lady a stuffed prize, only a dollar for three tries." Food stands were tucked in-between the dart games, strong man booth, and ticket stands. Overhead the Giant Dipper cast a shadow onto everything; the cars whipped by at speeds so fast she could pick out no one face, and could only hear the echoes of the screams.

It was heaven; no matter that she hated the crowds and didn't want to make friends with any of them. The energy and liveliness touched her internal need for excitement and Anna couldn't keep the bright smile off of her face.

This ocean-side town, with its crowds of misfits, aging hippies, and youth struggling to free themselves from the constraints of the adults, felt right. It felt like a place she could settle down and relax in; there was no way her family could find her here, not with the transient population and dark places to hide.

 _Nobody knows where you're goin'  
Nobody cares where you've been  
'Cause you belong to the city  
You belong to the night  
Livin' in a river of darkness  
Beneath the neon lights_

 _You were born in the city  
Concrete under your feet  
It's in your moves, it's in your blood  
You're a man of the streets_  
"You Belong to the City" – Glen Fry

The sweet scent of funnel cakes—a mix of fried batter, fruit stewing in its own juices, and powdered sugar—struggled with the salty smell of the ocean; twining through both were the various perfumes and colognes young couples splashed onto their bodies to tempt the opposite sex and the odor of burnt rubber as the vehicles outside struggled to stop and go without crashing. Anna breathed it in, filled her lungs with the fragrant bouquet of good and bad, and let herself float through the teeming mass of humanity, thrilled to the very marrow of her upper class bones.

A comic book store caught her eye for all of a moment; inside two young boys stood in front of a thick counter, their eyes locked on the motley crew of twenty-year-olds who stood, laughing at the ‘toon comics filling the stand in front of them, running fingers through messy Mohawks. Their t-shirts spread over their chests, emblazoned with day glow colors that proclaimed "My beach, My Wave" and "Surf Nazi."

Ahead, a lively tune danced out from inside one of the buildings. As she drew closer, she could see a carousel through the glass windows; on a whim she joined the crowd of parents with small children that made up the majority of the line.

By the time she reached the front, she was questioning her motives for stopping here. She had purchased only enough tickets for one ride; why waste it on this kiddie spectacle?

The first time her eyes landed on the horses at this close distance, she knew. Her heart skipped within her chest; she could actually feel it pause and restart, faster than before. Muscles seemed to flex beneath the painted skin of the animals; jewels studded the fake reins, catching the glint of soft yellow overhead lights. A real organ pumped out the music that had caught her attention.

Anna was lost in her own enchantment.

At the urging of the teenage worker collecting tickets, she hurried onto the ride, working her way around the circle until an individual horse immerged from the colorful throng and drew her gaze.

It was large, lips pulled back into what the carver must have meant to be a smile; the wicked look in the horse's dark eyes twisted the expression into a snarl. Blue and black jewels decorated the saddle and she caressed its neck before climbing on. When she reached back to help balance herself, her fingers met real horsehair, the brown so dark it was almost black.

The ride moved slowly enough that she wasn't dizzy; she tilted her head back, gazing at the overhead lights extending in long lines from the center circle. As she circled, she noticed a ring dispenser spitting out steel circles. Quick as she could, she arched up, straining to reach it. One slid into her hand, cool against her fingers, a solid weight that brought her back down to earth.

Nothing else the Boardwalk offered could compare to the brilliance of the ride; she already knew she'd have to find a job just to support this new and immediate addiction. With that thought in mind, she left the Boardwalk in search of some hole-in-the-wall bar…it was time to celebrate.

Her path took her only a block away from the beach; the bar, Surf's Up, was full of bikers, their ‘cycles parked in a long line along the side. Despite the kitschy name, the interior was dark, smoke-filled, and just what she wanted.

Three beers into it, Anna began to notice that two men, not wearing the requisite leather of the bikers who all seemed to be friends, were watching her. She ignored them as best she could from her spot in the corner, but after another half an hour, their gazes grew to be too much.

Though she would never admit it, they drove her from the bar and back to her apartment, after a brief stop to pick up the essentials: two icy bottles of tequila, a bag full of limes, and as much food as she thought she could carry, which wasn't much, since she wanted to protect the alcohol bottles.

Amazingly, not once was she carded.

Anna tucked herself into her tiny bed, sipping the tequila, extra limes rimming the top of the glass. She let her head fall against the headboard and grinned, smiling her pleasure at the entire room, as small as it was. Relaxation drifted throughout her body, bringing waves of peace and comfort with it.

~~**~**~~

 _When you said goodbye, you were on the run  
Tryin' to get away from the things you've done  
Now you're back again, and you're feeling strange  
So much has happened, but nothing has changed  
You still don't know where you're goin'  
You're still just a face in the crowd_  
"You Belong to the City" – Glen Fry

The Boardwalk, though just as pleasant as the night before, was unable to hold Anna's attention. Her dreams had returned, thought they were filled now with murky shapes. She could never quite make out the faces that belonged to each body; at the very most she knew she wanted to be with them.

In comparison to the dream-figures, the people she ran into on the Boardwalk didn't cut it. In desperation, she headed back to the bar, ignoring her corner table and settling herself at the wooden counter running along the far side of the room.

Immediately, almost before she had her bottle of beer in her hand, the same two men from the night before joined her, one on each side. She ignored them as best she could, focusing her gaze on the dark rings left from wet glasses, but they wouldn't take the hint; in fact, each shifted his bar stool closer to her.

"Don't see a lot of women here alone," the first remarked, placing his arm on the bar between them. Anna stared down at it, counting each individual hair, a task that would have taken her weeks, to try to drive him away.

"‘Specially not ones as pretty as this one," his friend replied, leering down at Anna after a quick glance at the first. She shifted her weight and spun in a quick circle, putting her back to the bartender and opening up an avenue of escape.

"Going somewhere, Pretty?" the first slid his arm over until it pressed against her back, though he never lifted it off of the bar. "We were just getting to know each other." He leaned in, his beard just brushing her cheek and she surged off of the stool.

"Don't touch me again," she snapped, dropping her bottle. It struck the floor with a chiming sound and glittered bits of glass spread across the floor, pushed on by the rush of alcohol. "Or I'm going to…"

"You're going to what, Pretty?" the second one leaned forward, revealing a knife tucked against the rolls of fat at his side. "I don't think you're going to do much of anything."

She hit him, driving her fist forward until she felt his nose shatter beneath her fingers; he tumbled backward, struck his head against the bar, and slumped to the floor, pressing both hands to his face to try to stop the flow of blood.

His partner bent over him, calling out questions on his health, and Anna ran, throwing herself out the door. Far faster than she expected, they followed her, their threats filling her ears as she headed toward the Boardwalk.

Once in the alleys and tiny walkways that made up the outer edge, she lost them, circled around behind, and began to stalk. She was back on comfortable ground, and could barely restrain her laughter as they bumbled to and fro, one of them still bloodstained, searching for her.

They broke into a run, she assumed after spotting someone who resembled her, and she took off after them, keeping them within sight without drawing too close. They surged through a crowd of surfers, ones she recognized from the comic book store in some small part of her mind, and she followed, ignoring the outraged cries.

The first man stumbled sideways and slammed into a young woman, tossing her slender body at the ground. She lay unmoving, dark curls covering her face, and Anna launched herself at the men.

The first one met a brick wall with an audible crack and burst of blood; the second reached for her, his thick arms straining beneath his once-white shirt. She ducked under his grasp and kicked him backward into a light pole.

Laughter slid along the air, spilling out of her throat when she stopped holding back her amusement. The men tried to stagger to their feet; she watched them with narrowed eyes, her fists resting on her hips. Darkness and anger ran beneath her voice, darkening what might have been lovely into something bitter and bile.

"Twice you've upset me," she twisted her lips into a pout. "First, the way you acted toward me. Second, you knocked this lovely lady down. Cross me a third time, and you won't be given another chance."

The second man managed to move himself upright; he stumbled to his partner and helped him to his feet. Both had broken bones and they groaned as they limped away; Anna followed their progress, her eyes dancing, until they disappeared in the crowd.

Once they were gone, she turned and offered her hand to the fallen teenager. She was lovely, with delicate features and eyes so dark Anna knew men would lose themselves inside. She wrapped her lips around a smile, hoping to assure the girl that she wouldn't hurt her.

There was something oddly familiar about the mix of woman-child…

"Are you ok?" she asked, standing perfectly still, her hand still extended. "I'm sorry about that. They were chasing me, and knocked you down. I apologize. I should have kept an eye out for bystanders." Her features creased into a frown that faded within a moment. "I'm Anna."

The woman blinked at her, confusion written across her face. A dark shadow flowed like water across sand, but was gone before Anna could figure out what might have caused it.

She lifted her hand, dragging it through the air as if it were thick like honey, and placed her tiny fingers in Anna's palm. Her muscles locked up at the first brush of skin to skin; tremors slid along her body in the next moment.

"Are you ok?" Anna repeated, worried now that the men might have caused serious internal damage. She bent forward, gazing down at the girl's eyes, trying to determine if she might have a concussion.

"Protector," the girl whispered, then slumped to one side, unconscious.

 _You belong to the city  
You belong to the night  
Livin' in a river of darkness  
Beneath the neon lights_

 _You were born in the city  
Concrete under your feet  
It's in your blood, it's in your moves  
You're a man of the street_

 _You can feel it, you can taste it  
You can see it, you can face it  
You can hear it, hey, you're getting near it, hey  
You wanna make it, cause you can take it_  
"You Belong to the City" – Glen Fry

"Protector?" Anna echoed, straightening up. She lifted her shoulders up toward her ears and then sighed. She'd get no answers from the girl while she was unconscious. She didn't know where the hospital was; the only place to take her was back to the apartment.

As light as the girl looked, Anna struggled to lift her up; she staggered sideways once she hefted the stranger into a fireman's carry and her legs strained to balance out the dead weight. Once she had her settled, it was only a matter of keeping the body steady as she made her way to her apartment.

Anna took care to lower the girl to her bed without hitting anything; she ran cool water over a new washcloth and placed it on her forehead, checking for any lacerations before retreating to the far side of the room. She found the bottle of painkillers that came everywhere with her and returned to the stranger's side, forcing the girl to swallow the pills.

Once the medicine was inside, Anna retreated again. She perched on the dresser and rested her chin on one hand, running the girl's final words over and over inside her head.

The girl stirred, moaning quietly, the sound echoing deep inside her throat. She blinked her eyes open, confusion carving across her face, deepening her dark brows into a frown.

Anna flicked on the lamp that sat next to her; immediately the girl's eyes turned toward her, recognition sliding through them after only a moment's perusal. Anna hopped off of the counter as she spoke.

"Anna?" the girl whispered, making the word a question. Her voice quivered and Anna crossed to her, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. She lifted the washcloth with one hand and ran her fingers through the girl's hair with the other.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked as she moved, keeping her voice gentle so she wouldn't scare the girl more than she probably already had by bringing her to a strange location. In retrospect, maybe it hadn't been wisest to take her home.

"What happened?" the girl asked, her frown deepening.

"You were knocked over by two men who were chasing me. I got rid of them, and then moved to help you up. You started shaking then passed out," Anna explained in a rush of words, hoping they didn't come too fast for comprehension.

"I must have hit my head really hard," she murmured, whimpering when Anna's roving fingers found a sore spot. Anna nodded, easing her touch away from the tender area.

"You did. I've found a bump or two. I gave you some medicine that should help you heal," Anna told her. The question came before she'd decided it was time to ask. "What's your name?"

"Star," the girl sat up, pressing her hands to the bed on either side of her body. "I should go. They will be worried, and he'll be mad."

Anna nodded, not stopping her. If she were so bent on leaving that she'd risk a head injury, she wouldn't hold her back. "I'll walk you, until you can find them," she promised.

Star began to protest, but her words fell on unheeding ears.

"You don't have a choice here. It's my fault you were hurt; the least I can do is help you find your friends," Anna told her, already on her feet and reaching for her well-worn leather jacket. After all this time, the bottoms of the sleeves were beginning to fray, but she couldn't let this one last reminder of her past go.

Star sighed, the puff of air moving her hair off of her face, and nodded. "Fine," she said, wanting to fling her hands into the air, but could already tell that this girl wasn't one to be trifled with. She'd proven that when she'd stood up to those men.

Within five minutes they were exploring the Boardwalk; it wasn't as fun when you were looking for a specific person, Anna noted. Too many people, from students at the University of Santa Carla to the aged hippy trying to be young again, crowded around them. It was almost impossible to pick out a single person.

Star led Anna down a dark alley, cutting around the crowds toward the other side of the Boardwalk, where fewer people milled around. Bright lights filled the other end without warning, the roar of motorcycles almost deafening the two girls. Star jumped away from Anna as quickly as she could.

 _You can feel it, you can taste it  
You can see it, you can face it  
You can hear it, hey, you're getting near it, hey  
You wanna make it, cause you can take it_

 _You belong to the city, you belong to the night  
You belong to the city, you belong to the night  
You belong, you belong..._  
"You Belong to the City" – Glen Fry

The roar of the engines surged higher, and laughter flowed beneath the dark sound. The bikes raced forward, heading directly toward the girls. Star backed into the wall and pressed against it like she might climb inside; she cried out for Anna to move, to follow her, but Anna remained still.

Anna stared at the motorcycles, her eyes narrowed, her chin lifted as high as she could without choking off her intake of air; her body was a statue as they raced toward her, playing a game of chicken that could end with disastrous results.

The bikes bore down on Anna, and Star screamed, pressing her fingers over her eyes, though she peeked between them, unable to look away from the impending disaster. She knew she shouldn't have brought the girl out with her.

At the last second, the bikes swerved to either side of Anna, close enough that she could feel the heat from their engines and the wind from their passing whipped her hair around her face. The last bike slid past and she whirled, twisting her body into a fighting stance, her weight on her back leg, ready to attack or defend as the situation called.

The bikes turned too with screeching tires and the smell of burnt rubber; they stopped in a semi-circle before her. The silence from the loss of their engines made her head throb.

She squinted to try to see past their lights; they flicked out, leaving them bathed only in the streetlights on either end of the alley. Anna blinked to clear the spots from her eyes and focused on the bikers at last.

They weren't the ones from the bar; these were younger, and though the leather was present, they were much better dressed. As a whole, they weren't hard to look at, even though she didn't want to admit that to herself.

And then she saw him. He reminded her of Rai at first glance; by the time she'd digested the information from the second look, he was his own person, despite the dark hair and dark eyes. Her heart thudded within her chest hard enough that she feared they would be able to hear it.

That was it, game over. She'd found a place to call home.

~~**~**~~

 _And it's oh so hard to explain  
You don't know nothing  
When your heart gets hold of your brain  
But still we try  
Better batten down the hatches baby  
Here we go again_

 _Love lift me wherever you are  
Convince me I'm safe in your arms  
Love lift me I'm waitin' on you  
Coz nothin' can lift me the way that you do_

 _Love Lift me  
Lift me up  
Only love can take me higher  
I wanna fly babe_  
"Love Lift Me" – Amanda Marshall

"I'd come home," Anna said again, scrunching her stomach muscles until she could sit up, twist sideways, and smile at Dwayne. "Not to be too cheesy, that is." He chuckled, the sound sliding over her body like warm chocolate.

"Not cheesy at all, love," he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her body, encircling her with his skin and his scent. "I don't think I've ever heard words I appreciated more."

Anna snuggled against his body, tucking her head into the space just beneath his chin. She fit perfectly, his breathing, necessary or not, filled her ears, and she was utterly, completely content.

"You kids are going to have to leave." The security guard shined his flashlight on them, but kept it out of their faces. It was for that reason, more than any, that they let him continue to live as they walked past him, heading away from the empty Pier, past the deserted Boardwalk, and to the shadows beneath the apartment buildings across the street, the closest place from which they could take to the skies.

Dwayne slid his arms around her waist, drawing his mate against his chest as they lifted to the air at the same moment, bodies entwined in a rhythm natural only to vampires…and the occasional bat.

"So now you know everything about my past," Anna mumbled directly into Dwayne's ear. "Do you ever plan on sharing your story with me?" She nipped at his earlobe before he could answer, causing him to shudder, jerk, and drop them a good ten feet toward the ocean.

"Someday, Anna," he whispered when their flight pattern had evened out. "Someday I'll tell you what you want to know."

"Everything?" she asked, letting her desire to hear it flood her voice with conviction. If he didn't want to tell, she wouldn't push him; however, there was very little she wouldn't give to hear about his past, no matter how dark or how boring.

"Everything," he assured her. "The good and the bad. You trusted me enough to share; how can I do any differently?" He bent his head to nuzzle at her throat, trusting his instincts to carry him over the path he'd flown a hundred thousand times in the years the Pack had been in Santa Carla.

Anna tightened her arms around Dwayne, one hand sliding up to cup the back of his head, pressing his mouth firmly against her throat. He accepted the unspoken offer and let his fangs drop, pressing the ridges in his forehead against her sensitive skin.

"Please," Anna groaned. That was all the encouragement he needed; Dwayne pressed down until the tips of his fangs pierced her neck; sliding the rest inside was smooth, easy.

Fire flared between them, egged on by the blood they shared and the love that continued to grow between them. Dwayne swallowed deeply, his throat working to take in everything that she gave him.

When he released her, flung back his head to cool the burn that seeped along his body, Anna couldn't hold back her shriek of happiness. The sound carried ahead of them, pushed on by the sea breeze that eased their passage to the cave.

They landed at the top of the cliff, just in time to see Marko walk out of the woods where they stored their bikes. They waited on the first wooden step until he was at their side; as a trio, they descended down the side of the cliff, careful of the weak step four down.

"Night out with the elusive Sprite?" Anna chirped, glancing over her shoulder at Marko as she hopped off the final step and started to wind her way around the rock-strewn path.

"Yeah," he muttered, ducking her head. His cheeks burned, and if he didn't know better, he would have thought he was blushing like a teenage human boy. Dwayne laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, pleased that his best friend seemed to be so close to finding a mate.

"Are we going to get to meet her soon?" Anna asked. She stopped just outside the entrance to the cave and turned to face him head on. "I think it's about time, Marko. You've kept her a secret for weeks now."

"I know." He kicked a rock out of the way, listening as it skittered down the side of the cliff to splash into the water. "I'll bring her to the Boardwalk to meet you guys, I promise."

"Soon, Marko." Anna cupped his chin and forced him to meet her eyes; under the direct gaze of someone rapidly becoming a leader, he couldn't put it off any longer. He nodded, as much as he could with her fingers still on his face, and she grinned at him, the seriousness draining away.

"Come on, you two," Dwayne slid one arm around Anna's waist and flung one over Marko's shoulder. "The sun's rising and you're holding up my progress. Besides, I'm sure David will have something to tell us before we sleep."

"Doesn't he always," Anna drawled, dipping her head down against his shoulder for an instant. "He's become Suzy Homemaker lately…." Her words trailed off as she remembered just why he was acting like he was, and her part in the whole mess, but Dwayne's tight half-hug kept her from sliding into a depression.

"You'll bring Sprite to meet us soon," Dwayne shifted topics with ease, glancing down at Marko. "And I'm sure you'll be bringing her home soon, too." He turned his head until he could meet Anna's gaze, sharing a silent moment of happiness. Marko stepped away, leading them inside, to David's welcoming nod from where he sat in his chair.

Michael and Laddie sat in the corner playing chess while Star watched their slow, deliberate moves. Rilly was stretched out along one of the couches reading a book, Paul massaging her feet. Victoria and Adam were still gone, out somewhere enjoying the brief moments of privacy.

Anna dropped onto the empty couch and kicked her feet up until her boots landed on the coffee table. Dwayne grabbed one of the bottles they kept in the small fridge for snacks and joined her, sliding his jacket off and tossing it to one side.

Family.

Home.


End file.
